


stone cold fever, internal melody

by reachthetree



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Louis pines, M/M, Matchmaker Harry, Singing, Tension, also they have wine with dinner one time, bc who doesn't love that trope, hl are bffs, nick has chest hair, there's brief mentions of masturbation and allusions to sex but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachthetree/pseuds/reachthetree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Do you feel musical?” Louis asks, somewhat jokingly, because he’s still not sure about Harry’s new age stuff.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Nick juts out his lip and nods, overly serious. “Very musical,” he says. “I can feel the strings in my heart starting to tune themselves. One of these days they’ll be ready to be played.”</i>
</p><p>Some people think music is magic. Louis isn't one of them, but he sings to Nick nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stone cold fever, internal melody

**Author's Note:**

> hi! sooo this is based on oscar wilde's short story the nightingale and the rose, which i highly recommend as a light read about love and death. the title is from 'music is my boyfriend' by the hidden cameras. shout out to everyone i've pestered about writing this, i love you all dearly!
> 
> also this is a canon-au(?) in which louis can take the tube without getting mobbed, but 1d exists etc. :) i hope you enjoy!

He’s on his way home from Zayn’s, scrolling Twitter to pass time, when Gerard tweets it. Louis makes music for a living and he loves it more than he can describe, but magic? He’s not even sure what that means. Whatever. He shakes the thoughts in a second; by the time he’s read a few more tweets it’s gone.

When he gets home, Harry has dinner ready. He’s such an excellent person to live with, Louis muses and helps himself to more roasted potatoes. They make light conversation during dinner, like most days.

It’s not until a few hours later, when they’re watching tv and relaxing, that Harry brings it up.

“Louis,” he says very seriously. “I’m worried about Nick.”

“That’s a shame,” Louis says and reaches for another handful of crisps. Harry doesn’t say anything else, and Louis chews through the silence, but when he’s swallowed and Harry still hasn’t spoken he shifts uncomfortably. He’s stopped paying attention to the murder in Midsomer.

“So?” He presses. “Why are you telling me this? Nick is your friend. Not mine.”

“I know you think of it like that,” Harry says, “but this time I think you can help him.”

Louis scoffs. “Is that so?”

Harry nods solemnly. “See, he’s lost the music in his heart.” Louis starts laughing so much he almost doesn’t hear the rest: “and I think you should sing it back into him.” He looks so serious that Louis’ laughter dies. This is weird, but Louis always goes along with Harry’s weird shit. He stays silent for a few seconds, contemplating arguments to use.

“How would that even help?” he tries.

“Well, see,” Harry starts, “there was this new age type website, and it said…”

Louis sighs. Harry is reaching unprecedented levels of Harryness. He believes in magic now? It might take a bit more than usual for Louis to go along with this particular weird thing. 

“Why don’t you do it?” Louis looks skeptical. “You sing, too, you know.”

“Because…” Harry hesitates, and Louis braces himself. “Because your soul is more similar to his.” 

He looks pleadingly at Louis, who scoffs again. “I highly doubt that,” he says. “What do you know about our souls, anyway?” He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows.

“I know you,” Harry replies gently, “and I would really appreciate if you could do this for me?” He flutters his eyelashes, as if to break down Louis’ unnecessary defenses with every wisp of them.

Annoyingly enough, it works. “What do I get out of it, though?” Louis tries to keep some semblance of dignity.

“You would earn my eternal love and friendship,” Harry smiles widely, “and that is the greatest thing in the world.”

“Besides music,” Louis corrects. He does so with a smile; Harry is a strange bean, but he loves his friends very much and that’s lovely. If he hadn’t been immersed in these thoughts, he might have noticed a satisfied smirk on Harry’s face.

It’s not that Louis dislikes Nick that much. It’s that he’s Harry’s friend, and Louis thinks it’s good for them to have things separate from each other. They live together and have a friendship so close that it’s constantly mistaken for romance. Louis wants Harry to have a space separate from that.

But he guesses that since they’re friends, it only makes sense that he would do this for Harry. At least that’s what he tells himself when he’s outside Nick’s door about to knock.

Nick opens the door wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that don’t fit well.

“If I’m gonna sing to you, you better put some clothes on,” Louis blurts out instead of hello.

He gets a very confused face in response. “I’m sorry, what?” Wow, Nick has really long legs.

Right. “You have a friend who’s worried about you,” Louis tries to clarify. “Young Harold?”

At this, Nick seems to realise something. “Oh,” he says. “Okay then. Come on in.” He waves Louis inside. Louis doesn’t look at him or his naked legs as he steps in.

The flat is really quiet. You can hear the fridge humming, the traffic outside, and a clock ticking. The dog Louis has seen in Harry’s instagram pictures from Nick’s is nowhere to be found.

“I didn’t realise you literally live without music,” Louis says. His voice sounds too loud, almost shrill. Something seems really off. It’s not messy, exactly, but the blanket on the sofa looks tired.

This whole thing is very strange.

Nick sighs. “Sorry,” he says, and Louis frowns.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he says, and looks around. “So, where do you want to do this?”

“Uh.” Nick looks around, too, and looks confused. “I’ll just… get some trousers first.”

While Louis waits, he treats himself to a glass of water. He starts humming a song he’d heard on the radio on the way over, a slow one with lots of feeling.

“That sounds nice,” Nick says from behind him, and Louis stops abruptly.

“Thought you didn’t have any music in you,” Louis responds, and cringes immediately after. Maybe that was unnecessarily mean.

Nick makes a sound that sounds close to laughter, though. “That doesn’t mean I can’t hear it from the outside,” he responds. Louis supposes that makes sense.

“Right,” he says. “Should I just… start?”

The ticking of the clock is throwing him off a little bit, and he taps his fingers against his thigh nervously.

Nick shrugs, then nods. “I suppose,” he says.

So Louis clears his throat and starts singing the song he chose earlier: Music is my boyfriend by The Hidden Cameras. 

_I found music, and he found me…_

They’re standing a good two meters apart. Harry told Louis that he should get close, as close as possible, but Louis can do what he wants. 

_A stone cold fever, an internal melody. Guitars make me happy, drum beats make us all free. Solid as a rock lover, is the music in me._

Nick smiles politely and nods along. As soon as Louis trusts that Nick won’t laugh at this ridiculous situation, he starts properly belting it out. By the end his sweet but raspy voice echoes in the room.

_Sing to be happy, hum to be free. The eternal harmony, music and me._

When he’s finished the song, Louis clears his throat. “So,” he says. “That happened.”

“Thanks,” Nick says. “You can tell Harry you’ve done what he asked.”

Louis isn’t sure what to make of that, but he nods and lets Nick escort him to the door. When he says goodbye, Nick smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You can tell Harry you’ve done what he asked.” The words stay with Louis on his ride home, they rattle between the subway trains and get trampled by stressed people.

When he gets home, he tells Harry what happened. Harry listens to him describing the silence in Nick’s flat, but doesn’t say anything when he’s done. Louis waits a few seconds before asking what he’s been thinking since he left.

“So I should go back and do it again, right?”

Harry gives him a small smile. “I think that would be good, yes.”

“Magical?” Louis can’t believe he’s saying this, but apparently he is.

“Magical,” Harry nods.

All right then. He asks Harry for Nick’s number and texts:

**coming back to sing to u again if u want. same time next week? xx louis**

Nick’s response is thoroughly underwhelming.

_**ok. x** _

The next week when Louis arrives to Nick’s he’s pleasantly surprised to see that Nick is wearing trousers. Wanky expensive-looking ones, granted, but still. He offers Nick a smile for this.

“Hello,” he chirps, and Nick tentatively smiles back.

Well, that’s at least a little better. Today the curtains are drawn and there’s some light in the flat.

“Would you mind if I sit down today?” Nick asks as he closes the door behind Louis. “I feel a bit sluggish.”

Louis shrugs. “Sure,” he says, and clears his throat.

Nick sits down on the sofa and Louis looks around, not quite sure where to stand. He feels self-conscious with only one person watching and listening to him, not distracted by four others or a crowd around them. But not being able to see Nick’s face would be worse, he decides, so he positions himself directly in front of Nick, so he’s forced to look up to see Louis’ face.

Today he’s singing If looks could kill by Camera Obscura.

Tell me where it all went wrong, maybe I can make it better.

He can hear his voice sounding extra fragile today, not quite covering the width of the song. Nick looks up at him, serious, and bites the inside of his cheek. Louis wonders if this is good or bad, but goes on.

_I promise hidden words of tenderness in every word that I write._

When Louis reaches the end of the song, he’s uncomfortable. Nick is looking at him, and he’s so close, too, and the novelty of having someone look up to him for a change wore off quicker than Louis thought it would.

“Okay, well, that’s that,” he says hastily, and turns on his heel to head for the door.

“Wait,” Nick says. “Would you mind sticking around for a bit?”

Louis stops but doesn’t turn around.

“Why?” He asks with his back still turned to Nick.

“Never mind.” Nick sounds embarrassed, and Louis turns around now. 

He never knew that someone so tall could look so small.

“I can stay,” he says. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Nick looks at him, then, unsure in a way that looks out of place in a face Louis has only ever seen look confident or happy drunk. “Okay,” he says. “I can make tea.”

“I’d like that,” Louis offers.

This is all so very strange. Nick has some fruity tea that comes in a metallic red bag and leaves escape the tea ball but it’s quite nice. There’s silence today, too, but Louis doesn’t suggest putting music on. 

“So,” Louis says and scratches at a sofa cushion to do something with his hands. “How’s the show?”

“The show?” Nick slurps tea and grimaces when he gets the slump at the bottom.

“The one you do on the radio?”

Nick snorts a half-laugh. “Oh.” Silence. “That. Yeah. It’s fine.”

Louis frowns. “Just fine?”

“What do you want me to say?” Nick sounds annoyed now, and Louis has no idea why he asked him to stay.

“I don’t know,” he says shortly, “but I hadn’t got the impression that you were opposed to sharing a fun story from your entertaining place of work, and I was just trying to make conversation. My mistake, I guess.”

Nick sighs. He sighs, and maybe Louis went too far. It’s the kind of sigh you let out when you can’t bear something anymore, and the weight of it forcefully presses the air out of your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” Nick says. He sounds tired.

The clock is ticking in the silence and Louis waits for something, he doesn’t know what. “I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

The laugh from Nick almost sounds genuine. “Neither do I,” he says. “But it’s not hurting, is it?”

It’s actually not. “No,” Louis admits. “It’s not hurting.”

He supposes that anything that doesn’t hurt can’t be too bad.

When he leaves that day, Nick tells him “see you next week,” so Louis will apparently see him next week. He spends the ride home going through his music library on his phone, trying to find a song he wants to sing.

He gives up quite quickly, and opens instagram to look at Nick’s pictures for clues to what he would like. Louis isn’t normally an “aim to please” kind of person, but this whole thing is a giant exception in every way. He doesn’t find any blatant clues, just lots of pictures of the dog, Pig, and selfies galore.

Nick actually looks quite attractive in a white granddad neck t-shirt. Louis hovers with his finger over the follow button. The decision is made for him when the train comes to an abrupt stop and the shake makes him hit it.

That’s that, then.

Louis spends the rest of the week getting used to the fact that Harry’s Friend Nick is now also Louis’ Friend Nick. That thought and his brain are like a square peg and a round hole, but he’s trying. He likes one of Nick’s instagram pictures of Pig, even, to show his good will.

“What does Nick like?” he asks Harry one night. They’re watching tv and winding down, or at least trying to. Harry is texting someone and Louis is impatiently updating his instagram feed.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks. He sounds surprisingly unsurprised. Like this is not a weird question coming from Louis. “What does he like in what department? I need something more specific,” he goes on. 

Louis sighs. The fuck if he knows what he meant. “Just like… stuff,” he says, and Harry’s lips jerk upward in amusement.

“Well,” he says, “Nick likes his dog, probably more than any human he’s ever met.”

“I concluded as much on my own, thanks,” Louis mutters, and Harry grins.

“All right,” he says. “He also likes 90s hiphop, stealing my clothes, catchy pop music, and pasta of all kinds, though he frequently tries to ‘detox’ from it.” He stops and takes a breath. “And as much attention he focuses on his dog, he also loves his friends very much, and he’s not as dickish as he sometimes comes off.”

Louis squirms. That sounds familiar. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

Harry flashes his bright trademark smile. “No problem,” he says. What’s he so pleased about? Louis tries to dig himself deeper inside the sofa, as if that’ll make him more relaxed.

The day before he’s due to go see Nick he looks through his Facebook pictures. He looks so happy in all of them, always smiling and with his arms (or legs) slung around equally happy people. It’s hard to connect that Nick with the dejected person he met two weeks ago. Louis tries to shake that thought and clicks on to the next picture.

It’s another party picture; Nick is holding a bottle of some kind. Louis zooms in on it to see what it is, and wow, Nick’s fingers are really long. He quickly closes the tab and wishes he hadn’t noticed that. But he did, and he stays awake for longer than usual with his blood rushing imagining what those fingers could do.

He wakes up hard. Confused, ashamed, and aroused at the same time. He wanks off in the shower trying his best to think about Lollipop twinks. But when he gasps and comes it’s the picture he looked at the night before he sees before his inner eye.

It appears that Nick has cleaned. The apartment smells vaguely like soap, and there are flowers on the kitchen table. Yellow roses.

“You didn’t have to buy me flowers, Nick,” Louis jokes, and takes off his jacket.

Nick huffs. “I bought them for myself, wanker,” he says. The corner of his mouth looks happy, though.

The floor is slippery under Louis’ socked feet. “You cleaned, too,” he points out, and slides into the flat because he can.

“I had people coming over,” Nick says defensively, and follows him walking like an actual adult. Boring.

“Oh?” Louis turns around.

“I mean, calling you people might be a stretch, but I’ve always been pretty generous with that kind of stuff.” Nick smirks. Louis wants to punch his bicep.

“For that, you’re not getting the nice song I had planned,” he says instead. He thinks for a second before he starts singing the most annoying song he can think of.

“Who let the dogs out?” He actually barks instead of singing “who,” and Nick’s dog comes running and jumps up at him, which causes him to break down and laugh. He gets down on the floor to cuddle Pig and when he looks up at Nick, he’s smiling too.

“Do you feel musical?” Louis asks, somewhat jokingly, because he’s still not sure about Harry’s new age stuff.

Nick juts out his lip and nods, overly serious. “Very musical,” he says. “I can feel the strings in my heart starting to tune themselves. One of these days they’ll be ready to be played.”

He looks into Louis’ eyes and Louis feels the moment crushing down on him. Pig licks Louis’ hand and he looks at her instead, thankful for the distraction. 

“Okay then,” he mumbles awkwardly, and scratches behind Pig’s ear. “Can I go now?”

When he looks back to Nick, he’s schooled his face into an expression that Louis can’t read. “Sure,” he says. “You came. You sang. Your duty is done.”

He’s got a lapful of dog now, though, and leaving doesn’t seem as appealing any more now that Nick stopped talking about heartstrings.

“I can stay if you like,” he offers, and pets Pig slowly.

But Nick whistles and Pig leaps out of Louis’ lap and joins Nick on the sofa. “I think you should go,” Nick says. “Thanks.”

Louis stands up and clumsily tries to brush the dog hair off his jeans and jumper. “Okay,” he says. Unsure. “I’ll see you next week?”

Nick doesn’t walk him to the door, just mumbles stuff to Pig and shouts “bye!” the moment before the door closes.

“Harry,” Louis whines, “the Grimmy thing is really weird.”

They’re having dinner – Louis made his standard pasta with fried bacon and shredded parmesan – and Louis takes the opportunity to vent.

Harry sighs. “I know you’re not a very magical person–”

“Exc _use_ me! I’m plenty magical,” Louis says indignantly. “But it’s still weird.”

“How have you done it?” Harry takes a bite and chews while looking at Louis, waiting for him to respond.

“Well,” Louis says, “I’ve just? Sung to him? Was there anything else to it?”

“You need to do it closely,” Harry says seriously. “Like, sing into his chest.”

Louis’ heart speeds up. He frowns. “That sounds strangely intimate.”

This earns him a little laugh. “You could say that,” Harry responds. They each take a bite and chew in silence for a bit before Harry continues, “he’s got great chest hair. I’d think you’d enjoy that.” And he smirks.

“What’s given you that impression?” Louis says coolly, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork and watching it dance.

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you rip a hair out of Niall’s chest every time you see him? That you’re always keen on discussing it in interviews?”

Louis feels a little warm. “Well, that’s not Nick Grimshaw’s chest hair,” is his weak retort. “It’s different.”

“It is different,” Harry agrees. “Nick has even more chest hair.”

He shouldn’t look so smug about it. And Louis shouldn’t go to bed thinking about it.

“Apparently I’m supposed to sing directly into your chest,” Louis says to the flowers. They look a little tired this week but that’s okay. Louis can relate.

Nick doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds Louis feels compelled to look at him after all. He’s staring at Louis with his mouth slightly open and skeptical eyebrows.

Louis clears his throat. “If you could say something, that would be brilliant.” Nick closes his mouth. Louis has never known him to be quiet this long before.

“Okay,” he says finally. Louis nods to the flowers.

“I’m just going to get a glass of water,” he mumbles, and walks into the kitchen. The water isn’t cold enough and he drinks it slowly. Nick is just standing in the living room still.

He knows that Nick is taller than him, but it becomes a lot more real when he’s standing in front of him, just a couple centimeters away. Face to chest, as it is. He’s actually perfectly positioned with his mouth near where Nick’s heart must be. Maybe this is what Harry meant about Louis having to do it; Harry would be way too tall.

Nick smells like clean laundry and not much else. His personal scent is something Louis is trying not to notice.

“Do you not use perfumed deodorant?” he asks casually. With his face within touching distance. If he stuck out his tongue it would dampen the fabric of Nick’s t-shirt.

“Does that matter?” Nick responds. His voice sounds different when it comes from directly above Louis. Closer. Deeper. “Didn’t realise you’d be smelling me,” he murmurs.

“Would you have if you knew?” Louis shoots back. He starts waggling his eyebrows for comedic effect before he realises that Nick probably can’t see him.

He still laughs, though. “Cheeky,” he says. “Are we just going to stand here all day?”

That would actually probably be a quite fun day, Louis thinks. He immediately regrets it. “No,” he says indignantly. And he starts singing the next second.

He’s singing the song he’d heard on his way over the first day: Waiting Game by Banks.

_I’m thinking it over, the way you make me feel sexy but it’s causing me shame._

He can feel his own hot breath blow back at him against Nick’s chest.

_I want to lay on your shoulder._

It seems like Nick is holding his breath.

_What if I never really see you cause we’re both on a stage? Don’t tell me listen to your song cause it isn’t the same._

Louis doesn’t usually sing songs this slow. Or this emotive. His voice creaks a bit on a drawn out “love”.

When he’s done he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. A smell of laundry and man. He lets himself wait for a second before stepping back.

“That was really nice,” Nick says, and pulls on his t-shirt. “Your voice was… You sound like you have a jar of honey in your chest.”

Louis wants to joke, something about Winnie the Pooh maybe, but Nick sounds too earnest. He can’t. 

“Thanks,” he says weakly. “I, uh, have to go.”

This time Nick doesn’t ask him to stay. It’s only when Louis is already out the door he realises that as intense as this was, there wasn’t even any chest hair involved.

It turns out that if you backtrack Nick’s instagram enough, there are bare-chested pictures to be looked at. Free for all. Harry wasn’t lying – it really is quite majestic. Louis’ mouth is dry. He’s 34 weeks back. If he likes this picture by accident, he’s screwed.

Some people might say that all signs point to him being screwed anyway, but none of those people are here and Louis himself certainly isn’t one of them. Curiosity is a natural human trait. He just wants to see what Harry was talking about, that’s all. It certainly doesn’t have to mean anything. Neither does the fact that he kind of wants to run his hands through it. It’s just like… seeing a picture of a fluffy kitten. Of course your reaction is to want to pet it. 

But Nick is not a kitten and deep down Louis knows that chest hair petting isn’t widely considered as platonic behavior. 

The next song Louis chooses to sing is Just Like Honey. He stands in front of Nick, just like last time, and sings about a honey-dripping beehive. Nick tenses up at _I’ll be your plastic toy_. But it’s all good. Louis focuses on remembering the lyrics and ignores the buzz from the honey-dripping beehive in his chest.

“Is this helping at all?” Louis asks when he’s done.

He takes a step back and looks up at Nick, who nods quickly. “I do feel a lot better, actually.”

“So, er. Does that mean we’re done?” Louis forces himself to ask. He doesn’t want to stop his visits, but he definitely doesn’t want to admit to that either. 

“I wouldn’t want to risk the progress to be for nothing,” is Nick’s response. 

Louis might be smiling. The flowers in the window might be smiling back.

Progress. That’s what they’re making. Louis sits cross-legged on his bed with his laptop in front of him and stares at the Facebook homepage. He wants to look at Nick’s tagged pictures again, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s already seen them, so what’s the point? But there’s a voice within him that’s not listening to his logical reasoning, and it’s urging him to go look. 

Instead he types “happiness” into the search field on Spotify. He comes up with Pursuit of happiness. That should be massively helpful for Nick, and maybe they can stop this, he thinks. He sings it in the shower all week.

When the next Nick day comes, and he sings in the shower as usual, he gets shampoo in his mouth. He tries not to read into it.

When he comes out from the bathroom and goes to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, still wrapped in a towel and wearing nothing else, Harry is there. There’s tea in a pot and Harry has put Louis’ favourite cup on the counter. He smiles at Louis, but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you mind if we sit down today?” are the first words out of Nick’s mouth.

“Hi,” Louis says, and kicks off his shoes. “Hello.”

“So?”

“How would that even work?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “I sit on the sofa. You also sit on the sofa.”

Louis is very aware of how his clothes are in contact with his body. “How close?” he asks.

“I mean. Technically, you could… You could sit on my lap if you want?” Nick isn’t looking at him, which is fortunate because Louis’ face feels hot and he’s pretty sure it’s red.

“Okay, sure,” he says. Nick looks at him then. Crap.

Louis has to crouch down to sing directly to Nick’s chest when he’s on him. He’s acutely aware of Nick’s thighs under his bum and the fact that their respective zippers are touching. His hands are holding onto Nick’s shoulders to keep him steady, and really, this folded up position is less than ideal for singing. But he does it anyway.

_People told me: slow my roll, I’m screaming out: fuck that. I’m going to do just what I want and there ain’t no turning back._

Louis’ neck is hurting from its bowed position and he’s a little out of breath. He quickly inhales – there’s Nick’s scent again – and keeps going.

_If I fall, if I die, know I lived it to the fullest._

He feels Nick shift under him.

_I’m on the pursuit of happiness. I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good._

Louis needs to stretch out his neck. He looks up; he’s face to face with Nick. He keeps singing, more clearly now his airways aren’t restricted by a compromising position. Nick meets his eyes. Then he looks down on Louis’ lips. Louis keeps singing.

_Tell me what you know about dreams–_

Maybe he’s cut off by Nick kissing him, maybe he stops singing to kiss Nick, but they’re crashing into each other and Louis knows nothing about dreams because this is reality. Nick tentatively places his hands on Louis’ hips and Louis tilts them forward to tell him it’s okay. Nice, even.

Nick kisses like he talks on the radio: fast and intense and teasing. Louis is the one sitting on him but he doesn’t feel like he has any leverage. He snakes his fingers through Nick’s hair and tugs on it to regain some sense of control. That backfires because it makes Nick groan in Louis’ mouth, a feeling that travels through Louis’ entire body.

This is too much, too quick, Louis’ pulse is speeding, and if Nick is feeling half of it there has to be some music in his heart now. Louis leaves Nick’s lips, swallows, and takes a deep breath.

“Right,” he says, hoarsely. He clears his throat. “I, um, have to go.”

Nick’s hands leave his hips immediately. It feels strangely cold. “Okay,” he says. “Will you come back next week?”

Louis hesitates, and Nick adds, “you don’t have to, I’m fine.” That settles it.

“No,” Louis says, “I’ll be back next week.”

Nick smiles at him and Louis smiles back and this is going in a very unexpected direction but Louis doesn’t have it in him to resist it.

Louis spends the week avoiding Harry. He always knows when Louis is hiding something, and this isn’t something Louis is ready to share just yet. So he stays in his room and when Harry knocks the door Louis yells that he already ate like a fucking teenager to a parent. However, unlike a parent would, Harry accepts this and leaves Louis to it.

What Louis is doing is looking for a song to sing. It seems more important than ever to pick a good one. Louis bops along to the music as he scrolls, and changes song within thirty seconds every time. Everything is restless.

When he’s finally made his choice, it’s late. He can’t sleep, though. He remembers Nick’s smile when he’d said he’d come again and his insides feel warm and fuzzy like cozy socks that’s just been in the dryer. Trouble.

Nick opens the door with a tentative smile. Louis notices that his jeans are tight and his hair looks perky. Before he can say hello, Pig comes running and spares him the awkwardness.

“Hi, Pig dog,” Louis says and crouches down to pet her.

“Hello to you too,” Nick says sarcastically, and Louis looks up.

“Hi, Nick human,” Louis says stupidly, and cringes. What the fuck is he doing. Nick laughs, though, so it’s not too bad probably. Pig looks happy, too.

“Do you want to get started?” Louis asks and gets up from Pig level. His thighs hurt a bit.

“Sure,” Nick responds, with a glint in his eye. “How do you want me?”

That’s definitely flirting. And Nick doesn’t even know what he’s got coming for him.

“Take a seat,” Louis smirks. He’s nervous but he’s ignoring that.

Nick sits down on the sofa, much like the day before, and Louis positions himself standing in front of him with some space. Without any prelude, he clears his throat and sings the first line of Reflection by Fifth Harmony.

_I must confess, you looking fresh._

Nick looks amused and confused at the same time. Louis sings on, improvising dance moves as he goes. _Go ahead and flex_ – he flexes his little bicep. _Don’t need no filters on pictures before you post them on the ‘gram_ – he does his best impression of Nick’s selfie face. Nick laughs.

When he gets to the chorus, Louis brings out the sexy. He grinds his hips back and makes his voice low and sultry. _Think I’m in luuuuv cos you so sexy_ … Nick gapes and Louis quirks his eyebrow while singing the punchline.

_Boy, I ain’t talking about you, I’m talking to my own reflection._

He runs his hands down his body as he repeats the line, Nick laughs, and spurred on, Louis turns around and touches his own back, mimicking someone snogging him while singing.

“Louis,” Nick interrupts him, laughter in his voice. Louis stops singing and turns around. 

“Yes?” he asks, with a hand on his cocked hip. “Problem, Nick?”

Nick grins. “You didn’t have to do all this to seduce me, you know,” he says.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Louis says. “I’m just singing. As a favour to our mutual friend Harold.”

“You just had to ask,” Nick goes on, like Louis’ reply didn’t register. “I would have said yes.”

Louis wants to argue. He really does. But his throat is in a knot and his stomach is doing that swirly thing again and everything is spinning. He’s not sure what Nick would say yes to, what he can ask for. So he just stands there, staring at Nick’s lap, feeling the hand on his waist slide down until it’s stopped by his hipbone. His t-shirt is uncomfortably stretched and so is he.

“Okay,” he says. “Can I see your chest hair, then?”

Nick laughs. Then he takes his top off. Just like that. Louis tilts his head and ponders the rug on his chest. It looks even more pettable in real life.

“Nice,” he says, just to say something. Nick’s leg is jumping and Louis is avoiding looking at his face, but in the corner of his eye he can see that there’s a smiling situation going on. 

“Thanks,” Nick says. “Grew it myself.” Louis involuntarily lets out a chuckle. “You can touch it if you want.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” is what Louis says with his mouth, but his body is already on its way over. Damn it.

He promptly sits down in Nick’s lap, sideways, and places a tentative hand on his chest. It’s nice. Kind of like a cute pet. He burrows his fingers through it to scratch at the skin underneath. Everything feels warm and rough.

“So,” Nick says, “are we going to kiss again?”

Louis looks at his face. He can’t read Nick’s expression; it’s like a strange middle ground between humble and cocky, but far from neutral. 

“I thought I was the one asking for stuff,” he says. Then he leans in and kisses Nick.

This kiss is very different from the first one in two significant ways. Firstly, it’s the second one. Louis recognises himself in the act now. Secondly, Nick is shirtless. Louis recognises where this could go. Nick slips a hand under Louis’ t-shirt to hold his waist without anything in between; Louis keeps one hand on Nick’s chest and the other cradles his neck; they’re touching in more ways than Louis knows what to do with.

Louis leaves Nick’s with his lips kissed raw and his jaw sore and his heart singing. In the back of his head there’s a vague intent to talk to Harry about this, but that’s not his main concern. He goes over the day’s events in his head and smiles to himself. One kiss might be an accident, but two kisses definitely aren’t. His insides are buzzing and dripping honey. He thinks about Nick’s big hands grasping his hips so hard he’ll probably bruise and almost misses his stop.

“Harry?” Louis yells as soon as he opens the door. “Harry!” He kicks his shoes off and walks quickly into the kitchen, where Harry is carefully pouring pasta into a drainer.

“Hey, Lou,” he says. “Just in time for dinner. What’s up?”

“Nick and I kissed,” Louis says. He holds his breath and waits for Harry to react.

Harry… Doesn’t? Louis is almost disappointed when Harry doesn’t even startle, just finishes what he was doing before turning around to face Louis.

“That’s nice,” he says with a smile.

Louis can’t believe this. “Nice?” he says. He can feel the skepticism in his eyebrows. “I snog your friend and you think it’s _nice_?”

Harry nods. “I know both of you, remember? I think kissing each other was probably the best idea any of you have had your entire lives.”

“Heeeey,” Louis says, but his heart isn’t in being indignant. He’s just confused. A little hungry, because the vegetables Harry’s fried up to eat with the pasta smell delicious, but mostly confused.

“Let’s eat,” Harry says, “we can talk more during dinner if you want.”

The food is great. Once Louis takes the first bite he realises that he’s actually starving, and briefly wonders if kissing counts as exercise, which brings him back to confusion again.

“You really don’t mind?” he asks Harry once he’s eaten a few bites.

Harry chews, swallows, and nods. “I don’t mind at all,” he says. “Do you like him?”

That’s a hard question. Louis takes another bite to buy himself some time. He chews and thinks about Nick cradling his face, grazing his stubble. He swallows. 

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know him that well, though. It’s weird. I don’t know.”

“You can get to know him better, you know,” Harry says. “You staying away from him was your idea, and a pretty bad one at that, if you ask me.”

“Heeey,” Louis says again. He’s truly under attack from Harry today. “It made sense at the time, all right?”

Not much is making sense right now. Louis asks Harry about his day and genuinely tries to pay attention to the answer, but he’s got Nick in the back of his mind constantly trying to fight his way to the front of it. It’s frankly annoying.

“That’s nice,” Louis says when he feels like Harry is done. He gets a laugh in response.

“You didn’t even listen, did you?”

“Yes I did!” Louis nods his head aggressively because that’s probably convincing. Harry laughs again.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You’re in looooove.”

“Am not,” he protests weakly. “I don’t even know him.”

“That doesn’t stop true love,” Harry says with a smirk, and starts singing: “I can see your true colours, shining through…”

Louis feels his face go hot. “Whatever,” he mutters. “Thanks for dinner,” he says, and gets up and leaves Harry at the table. He’s still singing when Louis goes up the stairs to his room.

This was not how Louis expected this day to go.

He flops down on his bed and gets his phone out. When he clicks the screen he sees that Nick has texted him and fireworks in all colours go off in his chest. Fucking hell.

**_hope u got home safe ;) xx_ **

They’ve kissed twice, but Louis still takes a second to reassure himself that this is flirting. There’s a winky face emoji, in case he was having doubts, which he shouldn’t, but it doesn’t feel real. It’s been weeks but it still seems like a very short time to have someone go from friend of a friend that you avoid to potential love interest.

Louis bites his lip and thinks about a reply for so long that the screen shuts down and he has to unlock it again. 

**of course i did, you knob. good to know ur thinkin abt me tho ;)**

His heart rushes when he presses send. Rushes, as if there’s a finish to get to.

This week is different. For one thing, Nick finally followed him back on Instagram, which means Louis can like Nick’s pictures without feeling silly. He does. Every single one. He would be ashamed about that if it wasn’t for the fact that Nick went back and liked about 20 of Louis’ old pictures when he first started following him.

Louis took a screenshot of that. It’s just a row of @nicholasgrimshaw next to his own boring pictures, but sometimes he looks at it and feels giddy. Ridiculous.

They text now, too. Almost all the time. When Louis wakes up there’s always a good morning text from Nick, sent in the ungodly hours of the morning before he’s gone to work. And every night he texts Nick good night and pictures him snuggled up in crisp white sheets with Pig. Nick’s instagrammed that, so Louis knows what it looks like. He doesn’t know if having that visual is actually a good thing, because he dwells on it a lot, but it’s too late now.

If he’s honest, Louis doesn’t know if Nick even wants him to sing the next time he comes over, but he prepares a song anyway. It’s a good one. He thinks Nick will like it. He hopes he will.

Nick is wearing his sexy granddad neck t-shirt. Louis looks at his chest before he looks at his face.

“Hi,” he says stupidly. Nick looks amused.

“Hiya,” he says. “Like my outfit?”

Louis scans the rest of Nick’s body: tight jeans as usual, ridiculous socks with bananas that he’s probably stolen from Harry, tattoos on his forearms visible. He looks too good for Louis’ best.

“It’s all right,” he says finally.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Cheers.”

There’s a silence in which Louis nerves find the time to at least double. He swallows. “So, er,” he says awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

He wants to be anywhere but here doing anything but this. “I’m fine,” Nick says, “thank you.” Louis can feel his shoulders relax. “Yeah, I think I’m pretty good. How are you?”

“Good, thanks,” Louis replies, and takes a deep breath and goes straight for it. “I, uh, have a song? I mean, you don’t have to listen to it if you don’t need it, I just though that just in case–“

“I’d love it if you’d sing,” Nick interrupts him. His voice sounds soft and Louis feels soft inside.

Louis stands in front of a sitting Nick again, but it’s so different in so many ways this time. Somehow he’s both more comfortable and more nervous with Nick’s eyes on him now. He has to close his eyes to find momentum before he starts singing.

The song he’s singing today is Up by Olly Murs featuring Demi Lovato. More like Louis featuring feelings, he thinks, then shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and takes the plunge.

_Just breathe against the glass, leave me some kind of sign. I know the hurt won’t pass, just tell me it’s not the end of the line._

His insides are too jittery to give his voice the support it needs, he can hear how thin it sounds all through the first verse. Nick looks at him, and Louis thinks he sees pity. That won’t do. He closes his eyes and searches inside himself for something to ground him. But it’s already there: the music. He belts out the chorus loud and clear.

_I know this love is going in the same direction, that’s up._

Louis opens his eyes before starting the second verse, and sees Nick smiling at him. It’s hard to smile when your mouth is forming words but Louis can’t help it.

 _So let’s build a bridge from your side to mine_ , he sings. Nick leans forward then, and the smile is gone from his face. Louis closes his eyes again and gets lost in the music; his arms gesture on their own accord and his face scrunches up when he allows the feeling of the song to control him.

_I’ll do what it takes to make this fly. You gotta hold on, hold on to what you’re feeling, that feeling is the best thing. I’m gonna place my bet on us…_

Louis draws out on the last note as long as he can. He stops when he runs out of air and his eyes fly open. He doesn’t know where to look. He looks at Nick; Nick looks at him.

“Is that how you feel?”

The words are sudden and loud and Louis flinches. “No,” he says automatically, then grimaces, “maybe, I don’t know.” His fingers are tapping rapidly against his leg.

Nick pats the sofa next to him. “Come here?”

Louis can’t believe he phrased it like a question and not an order, but he answers the question by sitting down. He sits with his back to the armrest and his feet up on the cushion, about a decimeter from nudging Nick’s thigh with his toes.

“So,” he says. His fingers start tapping again.

“So,” Nick responds, and turns his torso so he can look Louis in the eye. Louis looks at his own feet, though. 

“Louis.” His name sounds really sweet in this tone Nick is using. Bloody hell.

“Nick.” He tries to make it sound snarky but his voice sounds like it’s got shivers.

“I feel like we’re going in circles,” Nick says, and Louis snorts out a laugh before he can stop himself.

“Please don’t quote my own songs at me,” he says, and Nick laughs loudly. Louis relaxes a little.

“Sorry,” Nick says, “but it’s fitting, innit?” Louis shrugs, still looking at his feet, and Nick goes on: “but seriously, was that song choice meant to say something? Or am I just reading into things here?”

Louis feels like he’s falling. It’s an honest question and it deserves an honest answer. He looks up to see Nick curiously watching him, his pulse speeds up and his cheeks go hot, and he takes a deep breath.

“Yes.” He exhales, and Nick waits. “Yes, it was meant to say something,” Louis goes on in a grumpy voice. “How’s this: I like you and I want to kiss you again and maybe date and have lots of sex and babies.”

Deep breath. Nick’s mouth is wide open. Louis is staring at him, refusing to look away even though he desperately wants to. He’s never sky-dived but he imagines this is what his stomach would feel like if he ever did.

“Okay,” Nick says.

“Okay what?”

Nick puts a hand on one of Louis’ ankles. His fingers wrap around all of it so easily. “Okay,” Nick says again, “let’s kiss and date and have sex.” Louis kind of wants to straddle him, but he also doesn’t want to lose the hand around his ankle, so he settles for nudging his bum closer so he can put his hand over Nick’s. It looks tiny.

“Cool,” he says weakly. Nick laughs shakily.

“Cool,” he echoes. “So how about that kiss now? We can consider babies at a later date.”

Louis is embarrassed that the babies thing slipped out, but he can’t bring himself to break eye contact. He does bring himself to wrangle his ankle out of Nick’s hand to straddle him, though. They’re nose to nose, both grinning stupidly, and Louis licks a broad line from Nick’s chin over his mouth until his tongue meets Nick’s nose. Said nose scrounges up as Nick squeaks.

“What the fuck?”

Louis bends forward, and he means to press a light kiss to Nick’s lips before saying what he wants to say, but that one kiss turns into two and then there’s tongues and grinding and Nick’s hands all over him and it’s not until after they’ve both come in their pants like fucking teenagers that Louis gives a satisfied sigh and finishes his chin-licking statement.

“We’re going to be the best boyfriends ever.”

A month later, Louis slides on his feet on the newly cleaned floor into the kitchen, and jumps up on the counter beside where Nick is cooking. 

“Hey babe, how’s the food coming along?” He says with a smile.

“Don’t rush me, Louis,” Nick replies. “Do you want this done quick or do you want this done right?”

Louis dips his finger in the sauce and puts it in his mouth, sucking on it while looking at Nick, who watches with his mouth half-open. He releases the finger from his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and grins. “Remind me to say the same to you later when you’re desperate to come,” he says, and Nick groans.

“Do you want Harry to have to see me with a boner?”

Louis frowns. “No,” he says. “Quick, think about knitting!”

Nick bursts out laughing. “Thanks, love, that’s massively helpful.” Sarcasm doesn’t come across as well when it’s drenched in affection, but Louis knows what he means. He sticks his tongue out at Nick in response.

The doorbell rings and Louis glances at Nick’s crotch. “I’ll get it,” he decides. “Un-horny yourself please.”

“It’s all your fault!” Nick yells after him as he scurries to open the door.

Harry brought wine, because he’s obviously an expert at going to dinner. “Harold,” Louis sighs, “what the hell is this?”

“It’s a merlot?” Harry says. “Why, do you hate merlot or something?”

He’s standing with his arms open in a confused gesture. Louis takes this as a chance to hug him. Harry quickly adapts and wraps his wine-free arm around Louis’ back.

“No, I don’t hate merlot,” Louis grumbles into Harry’s shoulder. “It just seems so formal. We’re best friends. There’s no need.”

They break apart and Harry smiles. “I just thought it might be nice to drink,” he says. “As best friends. And boyfriends, of course,” he adds and nods toward the kitchen.

Louis smiles back. “Okay, then,” he says. “Merlot is great.”

He actually does like merlot. If he’s not confusing it with some other wine, it’s quite easy to drink. Louis likes that in a wine.

It turns out that merlot is indeed nice to drink. Between the three of them, they get through it before they’re done eating, so Nick brings out a box of cheap white wine he’s always got on hand. They eat and drink and talk, and it’s… It’s really nice.

Louis had been kind of worried that he’d feel left out, or that Nick would, or that Harry would. Looking at them now, that seems unreasonable. They’re all friends for a reason. Louis can’t help but smile.

“What are you smirking about, hmm?” Nick asks jokingly, and Louis huffs a little laugh.

“I’m not smirking, I’m just smiling because I’m happy,” he says. “Can we have a toast for Harry, without whom I would still be avoiding Nick like a dickhead?”

Harry and Nick both laugh, but they raise their glasses and clink them. Nick’s foot finds Louis’ under the table. When Louis looks at him with raised eyebrows, he just shrugs and smiles. His foot is just resting against Louis’, warm and reassuring. Louis is vaguely aware of Harry laughing and shaking his head at them, but he doesn’t care.

Later, when they’re drinking and talking on the sofa, Harry brings his matchmaking up again. “You know, I’m actually quite proud of myself that you two got together.” He smiles contentedly and sips a little wine.

“It was in a really weird way, though,” Louis laughs from the floor where he’s sitting between Nick’s legs. “What was that site, anyway?”

There’s a beat of silence. Nick and Harry look at each other.

“Er,” Harry begins. “Well, you see, I just thought that maybe it would be good–“

“You made it up.” Louis would be furious if he wasn’t so comfortable with his back against Nick’s chest. “You tricked me.”

“It was for the good of both of you,” Harry claims, and looks way too pleased with himself.

Louis turns around to look at Nick. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Nick says, and Louis searches his face for signs that he’s lying, but he finds none. “But when Louis Tomlinson shows up at your door and offers a private concert, you don’t say no, do you?”

Harry is still grinning. Fuck him.

“So there is no magic?” Louis asks, surprisingly disappointed. Nick strokes his arm with his thumb.

“You were plenty magical,” he assures him.

“But what about the thing?” Louis insists.

Nick stops moving his hand, lets it rest on Louis’ bicep, and sighs. “Just before Harry got his little idea, I actually went to see a doctor. I was depressed.”

“Oh.” This got serious really fast and Louis feels dizzy.

“But I’m starting to get better,” Nick adds hastily, “and not just because I went on medication. You helped too.”

Louis can’t hold back a smile. “Really?” He has to pretend he can’t see Harry watching them with a fond smile on his face.

Nick nods. “I mean, it certainly doesn’t make matters worse to have a gorgeous man nuzzling your chest, does it?”

This is ridiculous, but Louis’ stomach is all hot and swirly, like he’s a pot of caramel sauce that Nick is stirring. Gross.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt,” Louis mumbles and hides his face in Nick’s chest. He can do that without the guise of singing to him now.

“See?” Harry butts in. “Told you. Music is totally magical.”

Louis feels the vibrations in Nick’s chest when he laughs. “Absolutely,” he says. Louis stays quiet. “No amount of music can compare to the Louis Tomlinson, though.”

That is an outrageous lie but Louis has never been less interested in the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) i'm on tumblr @ specklesocks if you want to yell at me about nick's chest hair or louis' honey voice or summat! love u xx


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